Day Two: Dim Light

Today was a dimmer sort of day, both inside my soul and out. The valley was gloomy with the sky preparing itself for rain, and my soul overcast with some troublesome thoughts. It happens that way sometimes, doesn't it, that the light seems hidden from our eyes?

Out on my hike this afternoon, I went looking for the light, as I often do when I am suffering from a troubled mind. St. Augustine said, "It is solved by walking." I think I know just what he meant. Walking is like prayer for me. In fact, most of my thinking and praying is done on my walks; it's how I sort things out. Being out in nature seems to put me back together again; the trees speak loudly of God, somehow.

Out in the park, there was a brightness to everything -- the sidewalks, the fields, the brush, were all cast in a silvery hue. But no sunlight to speak of -- except for the one single, splinter of light I found in a cloud mass. I stood in the open field and scanned the sky for more light splinters; but there was just the one.

Sometimes one is enough -- or it has to be, right? Enough to tell us the light will return. That it won't always be so dim.

At home, when the darkness fell completely, I listened to Handel's Messiah -- a splendid choice for the Advent soul.

Until tomorrow, my fellow light-seekers.